Stone Angel (4 page)

“
Whoa,” Eric said. “That’s cool.”

Amanda turned to Sophia, her mouth agape.

Sophia was concentrating, creating and
holding a protective bubble of energy around Amanda.

“
Oh, no,” Liam said. “The kid can generate
force fields already. They are going to want her so bad.”

Eric gestured to his remaining partner.
“Robbie, handle this. But don’t kill him!”

Robbie grabbed a handful of Liam’s hair and
slammed Liam’s skull against the wall. Once. Twice. The thump
echoed like drums of doom.

Liam put his hand to the gash in his head,
looked at the blood, and slumped against the wall.

Amanda ignored the way his knees gave way,
the trail of dark red against the white paint, the chalky cast to
his complexion.

This was his fault. All his fault. Except …
that it was hers, too. Her mistake to love him. Her mistake to
fix.

Eric looked at Sophia, horrified and gleeful
at the same time. “Man, I didn’t know anyone could make force
fields strong enough to repel bullets. The boss is gonna be
thrilled.”

As the force field shimmered around Amanda,
Eric looked Sophia over thoughtfully. “We better take both of them
to the Sculptor. He might want to change the plan when he hears
this.”

At that moment, the force field flickered and
died.

Sophia swayed, sweaty and shaking from the
energy she had exerted.

Amanda rushed to her, holding the lanky
13-year-old, stroking her dark hair off her forehead.

Sophia looked at Amanda, tears in her light
green eyes. “Oh, Mandy, I’m so sorry. I just wasn’t strong
enough.”

Amanda hugged Sophia to her, the way she had
every day since their parents left. She heard one of the Others
moving toward her, but she didn’t take her eyes from Sophia’s. “You
were perfect, Soph. I promise.”

Eric raised the butt of his gun and smashed
her temple.

And the world went black
.

AMANDA LEANED back against the worn vinyl
seats of the cab, remembering that awful night. How she had fought
her way to consciousness, ignored her pounding headache, only to
find herself bound and gagged, tied with rope and cords to a cold
metal chair.

She faced giant double doors opened into a
hallway filled with white statues, likenesses of humans in horrible
torment. She wanted to gasp, to pray, to close her eyes and go mad
so she didn’t have to face this reality.

But a man stood by the doors, a tall,
powerfully built man with short, brown, lustrous hair, chiseled
features, and a tattoo on his arm that seemed to be a tiger with
glittering eyes. The Sculptor. This must be the Sculptor.

He allowed her to take in the terrible scene,
then glided toward her, his gait easy, lithe, effortless. He knelt
beside her chair and pointed. “Do you see that statue? The woman on
her knees? The one in the slutty clothes? She’s been that way for
years … I froze her while she begged for mercy. You see, she wanted
to change her career, but once you’ve signed on with Osgood, the
deal is for eternity, and cannot be broken. Osgood lost the income
from her, of course, but the other prostitutes fell right in line.”
His voice sounded kind, like a pervert uncle pointing out a torture
scene to his cringing niece. “And there. See him? He’s almost a
man, but when he came here, he was a gangly adolescent, taken from
his mother as a payment on her loan. Foolish of her to think she
could default, but Osgood was fair. He gave her the chance to
repay. Too bad, what with being ill and all, she couldn’t manage
it. She died of cancer, poor thing, and grief.” From his crouching
position, the Sculptor looked up at Amanda. “As the boy grows, I’ve
had to re-plaster him. It’s a bit of a nuisance, but I like the
continuity of all white statues. It makes my display a little more
artistic. Don’t you think so?”

Amanda wanted to rage at his callus disregard
for so many lives wasted, so much time stolen. But the gag filled
her mouth with cotton, and when he stood and put his arms on either
side of her, she cowered.

Wrapping his hands around the back of her
chair, he turned her to face into his workshop.

He stepped out of the way to allow her to see
… Sophia, standing still as stone, her arm outstretched toward
Amanda, tears frozen on her cheeks.

As long as she lived, Amanda would never
forget that moment.

Her heart stopped. She screamed, the sound
muffled by the gag.

“
How do you like it?” His voice was
gravelly, the voice of a smoker, perhaps, or a much older man. “How
do you like my newest masterpiece? I call it, ‘Little Sister.’” He
chuckled at his vile joke, and his laughter was a crackling,
strained noise.

Amanda screamed again. She strained at the
ropes.

“
I’m not going to plaster her, like the
others.” He waved his arm in the direction of the statues in the
front hall. “I like her expression best of all … her futile faith
that you would save her.”

Amanda stared at him, incredulous, shocked,
revolted.

Her fault. When she read about the Others,
she should have acted. Taken Sophia away. She had thought they were
safe. She had trusted Liam.

She had been so wrong.

“
I’ll bet you’re wondering why, when we
have won the prize, you’re still alive.” He smiled conspiratorially
and leaned in to whisper, “I hear she saved you with a lovely
little force field.”

Amanda recoiled from his hot breath on her
ear.

“
Now’s your chance to save her.” The
Sculptor moved to face her again, his brown eyes sparkling with
menace. “I’ve been thinking what I can use I have for you, and I’ve
got a most brilliant idea. My boys inform me that you are a nurse,
correct?”

Amanda stared at her sister. She couldn’t get
her breath. But she didn’t dare faint, either. She had to listen.
She had to do … whatever it was the Sculptor wanted.

“
I assume you’ve heard of the Chosen
Ones.”

She nodded.

“
Their little leader, Irving, is in need
of a private nurse. The fool went and got himself pushed down the
stairs. Horrible injuries, I hear.” He moved to the long steel
table where each instrument was placed just so, and picked up and
examined the chisel. Looking up quickly, he caught her staring in
horror at the sharp, metal edge he caressed so lovingly. “You do
understand me, right?”

She nodded again.

“
Good. Because here’s where you come in.
You are going to infiltrate the very heart of the Chosen Ones, take
care of Irving, and earn their trust. You’ll report back to me
everything you hear and see, especially information about Irving’s
whereabouts. If I can capture him, Osgood will reward me
handsomely.”

Amanda thought if this horrible man had had a
mustache, he would twirl it … and that thought proved to her how
far gone she was in hysterics.

“
Do this, and maybe, just maybe, we’ll see
about giving you back your sister. Do we have a deal?” The Sculptor
looked triumphant, secure in the knowledge that Amanda’s love for
Sophia wouldn’t allow her to refuse.

And it was true. Amanda didn’t have a
choice.

She thought bitterly of Liam and her childish
plan to proclaim her love to him.

He hadn’t even cared for her. He’d been
biding his time, playing his part until it was time for the Others
to take Sophia.

She had trusted the wrong man. Loved the
wrong man. And now she would pay for it by betraying the good guys,
the Chosen Ones.

But to get Sophia back, she would fight the
devil himself.

So once last time, she had nodded.

“
Excellent!” The Sculptor put down the
chisel, arranged it precisely on the table, then clapped his hands,
bringing Eric from the hallway outside the studio. “Make the call,”
the Sculptor said.

Eric had untied her roughly, loosening the
cloth gag that made her jaw ache.

He had escorted her by gunpoint back to her
and Sophia’s little apartment to pack up a few belongings: clothes,
two pairs of sensible shoes, and her nursing bag. Without a second
glance, she left behind the Christmas tree with all of its lovingly
wrapped gifts under it, the bloody smudge on the wall where Liam
had fallen, and all her hopes and dreams of the future.

She didn’t bother to ask where Liam was; he
was probably getting some sort of medal for treachery, and some
claps on the back from the Others for drawing her into his web of
lies.

Eric briefed her in the car as he drove. The
Others had pulled strings to get her promptly hired at the hospital
as Irving's private nurse. When the doctor advised that Irving
needed someone to continue his at home care, he would recommend
Amanda.

“
What if the doctor doesn’t do that?” she
asked.

“
The doctor will do as he is
told.”

“
What if Irving doesn’t like me?”

“
It would be sensible of you to make sure
he does.”

“
Right.”

She was not to tell anyone of her sister’s
situation. She was to make friends with the Chosen Ones if it would
benefit the Others and give them more detailed information.

Eric stopped the car a block from the
hospital. He turned to her, caressed a lock of her blond hair and
smiled. “Break any of these rules and your sister will be
killed.”

“
Don’t worry about me. I’ll do whatever
I’m told.” She got out, leaned into the back seat to get her
bag…

Then Eric let the ax fall. “Oh, and every
Sunday without fail, you’re to report to … Liam Gallagher.”

She jerked her head up and stared into his
nasty, smirking face.

At that moment, Amanda realized she had been
cherishing the faintest hope that Liam had been duped, too. That
when he came to their door, he had truly been trying to save
them.

What a fool she had been.

But a fool no longer.

“
It doesn’t matter who I report to. And don’t you worry — I
will tell Liam Gallagher everything I can find out about the Chosen
Ones. Why wouldn’t I? I don’t care about them. I only care about
freeing Sophia
.”

That was true … until she met the Chosen
Ones. Until she got to know them. Until she realized how much they
cared for Irving, how hard they fought against evil, how kind they
were to her even when she froze them out, cut them off, snapped at
them and waved away their attempts at friendship. Unwillingly, she
had begun to care about them, to realize she couldn’t without
conscience betray them.

Now she prayed that in the next few critical
hours, the strength and courage they had shown would be hers.

Her sister’s life depended on it.

LOST IN her memories and steeled with
determination, Amanda stared, unseeing, out the cab window.

Sophia had been her life.

Liam had been her love.

Now she was alone, and in her coat pocket she
had a piece of paper with an obscene amount of money written in
Irving’s shaky cursive.

Thank goodness, the cab driver stopped at the
curb in Columbus Circle, bringing her out of her prison of
self-loathing and into the real world. She counted out change, slid
across the seat, and got out before the honking horns reached full
pitch. People hurried by in black peacoats and velveteen hats,
hands in their pockets and eyes downcast as they plowed their way
through their fellow commuters and shoppers. She glanced up at the
Time Warner Center, its glass windows shining in the wintery
sunshine.

Since Christmas, she had met Liam ten times.
Ten weeks of seeing the person she hated most in the world, while
knowing the sister she had always loved was frozen, motionless,
trapped.

He always tried to talk to her, act normal,
ask how she was doing, whether she’d seen Sophia. He always tried
to act as if he cared.

She had stared at the bruising on his face
and the stitches in his scalp and wished they had been twice as
bad.

Eventually he had given up, and now he just
watched her as if trying without words to convey his concern.

She must have been such a sucker for him to
believe that would work.

Of course, that was exactly what she had
been.

Squaring her shoulders, Amanda took off her
fleece hat, smoothed her blond hair away from her face and went
through the heavy glass doors of the building, skirting the
escalators and entering Williams-Sonoma.

She had to concentrate now. Liam would be
able to smell deception, so she had to play this perfectly.

Instantly an overly enthusiastic greeter
bounced over with a cheery, “May I help you find anything
today?”

Amanda had worked plenty of minimum wage jobs
in high school, and it didn’t seem fair to take her crappy day out
on this poor girl. So Amanda gave her a strained smile. “Could you
direct me to the seasonal section?”

“
Good
thing you asked. We just moved the store around!
I
can barely find anything anymore!” As the
girl led Amanda towards the back of the store, she babbled about
the spring green KitchenAid mixers and chick yellow wooden spatulas
and robin’s egg blue mixing bowls. And every sentence ended in an
exclamation point!

She made Amanda feel tired and old.

Then, so abruptly Amanda almost ran her over,
the greeter stopped. “Here you are! Every bright, light color you
could ever want!”

“Thanks, I’ll look around and see what’s
new.” Amanda needed to get rid of the salesgirl so she could find
Liam and be done with Part One of the plan.

“Great!” More exclamation points. “Just let
me know if you need any more help!”